My Turn
by fananicfan
Summary: A different way of H/M getting together. Originally a challenge story at another site.


MY TURN

BY: FANANICFAN

HARM'S OFFICE

LONDON

Though it was midday outside, with the curtains of both windows in the room drawn, Harm's office didn't reflect that it was daytime.

He reached for the handle of the top right drawer of his desk. It was that time of day again. It was time to read her letter again, the way he'd done every day since he'd received it. He pulled the drawer out a little and then pushed it back in until the face of the drawer collided solidly with the wood frame, making a thud.

He wouldn't do it again today. He started to stand to open the curtains, but he couldn't move and quickly abandoned the idea, sinking back down into his chair, feeling exhausted.

He'd read it today, but not tomorrow. Tomorrow, he wouldn't sit in a room darkened by his choice and pull her letter out of the drawer.

His chest expanded as he took in a deep breath before letting it out in a heavy sigh and reaching for the top right desk drawer handle again. This time, he pulled the drawer open fully before reaching for her letter, which was tucked neatly under other papers in hopes that, if anyone ever went through his desk, they wouldn't find it.

He found the envelope by touch, having memorized the feel of the paper from which the envelope was made. As he pulled the envelope out of the drawer, he thought about the night that they'd spent together three months ago. How could it have been three months ago when he could still remember it like yesterday?

She'd said that she'd come to his apartment that night to talk to him, but they hadn't ended up doing much talking.

He looked briefly at the front of the envelope, not because he didn't know that it was the right one, but because he needed to see the one word that she'd written there. Something happened to him when he saw that one word, 'Flyboy,' written in her handwriting. He was transformed or perhaps transported would be a better word, and there she was standing next to him, whispering the term of endearment into his ear.

He pulled the folded paper from the envelope. After placing the envelope down on his desk, he leaned back in his leather chair, unfolded it and began to read.

Dear Harm,

I'm sitting in my packed apartment, writing this letter to you. I'd almost decided not to write it because I know that my words will feed that fighter jock sized ego of yours, but I decided that, since I won't be around to have to deal with it, I shouldn't let that stop me. So, apologize to your wife, whoever she turns out to be, for my contribution to what she has to put up with from you.

I can't believe the turn of events that tonight took. I've sent you this letter to let you know how much tonight meant to me. I'm sorry that it happened just hours before we were forced to travel in opposite directions, but I'm not sorry for the act itself. It was everything that I thought it would be and so much more.

From the moment our lips came together in that first kiss, I was swept away. The heat of you so close to me, the rush of something new and eagerly anticipated, the passion of a desire kept locked away too long kept me in the moment, and I couldn't think of anything else.

The hours that we spent together, lost in each other, were more than wonderful. They were magical, and I believe that I'll never enjoy that kind of toe curling pleasure ever again. From the first kiss until we were forced to get out of bed to attend your party, I loved every moment of being with you. It was by far our best 'goodbye.' I will cherish the memory of our making love for the rest of my days.

I have just one more thing that I wanted to say before I close this letter. I love you.

Your friend always and forever,

Mac

PS On second thought, it would probably be better if you don't mention this letter to your future wife. I don't think she'd understand.

After having come to the end of the letter, he looked back up and read the last line of the letter, 'I love you,' again before refolding the letter and putting it back in his desk drawer.

MAC'S APARTMENT

SAN DIEGO

SAME NIGHT (local time)

Mac woke to the same dream that she'd been having for the last three months, though it wasn't really a dream. She was reliving the hours where, for the first time, their bodies had connected as their hearts and souls had done years ago.

She rolled over, but she didn't want to go back to sleep. She wanted to go back in time and be in his arms again. She sighed and then closed her eyes, but sleep didn't come to her. Instead, her conscious mind now relived the evening.

*******FLASHBACK******

She knocked on his door. She'd come to his apartment to talk to him, but she really didn't know what she wanted to say, didn't know what there was left to say before they were shipped off to new duty stations in different corners of the world.

He opened the door.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself," she replied shyly, now suddenly unsure if coming here was a good idea.

He turned back and headed inside his apartment towards his desk. "What brings you by? Shouldn't you be packing, too? Or are you finished with that?"

"I'm almost finished, just a few things left out, like my dress for tonight," she answered while closing the door. She moved farther inside his apartment, placing her jacket and purse on a stool at the counter. When she turned around, he was taping a box closed. She took in a deep breath. "I came by because it was my turn to come to you. I want to talk about you and me."

"Mac, I don't think that I'll ever feel about anyone else the way I feel about you." His tone was soft and his words dripped with sincerity.

It wasn't a declaration of his undying love, but the acknowledgment that he felt differently about her than any other woman and that he'd always hold her in a special place made her feel weak in the knees and breathless.

That's when she realized that's what she'd really come to talk about: opportunities not taken and lost moments, and that she regretted that they'd never acted on their feelings. He needed to know that she'd never feel about anyone else the way she felt about him either. The words to express that sentiment eluded her at the moment. The old saying 'actions speak louder than words' echoed in her head. Maybe talking was overrated. 'It certainly hadn't been productive for them in the past,' she cited to herself as she moved towards him.

As she got closer to him, she could see the concern in his eyes that she hadn't responded to his admission, but she didn't want to answer him with words. She moved more hurriedly so that she could end his worry as quickly as possible. She didn't say a word when she reached him. Not knowing what kind of response she'd get, she forged ahead, putting her palms on the sides of his face and pressing her lips to his.

Her lips touched his tentatively and briefly, and then her lips left his and she started to pull away from him. He didn't make her wait long for a response to her bold move.

As she pulled away, his arms wrapped around her and his face came towards her. His lips pressed firmly against hers. His kiss was full of heat, and she fell against him as her knees buckled, like she was melting. He held her firmly to him, but took his lips away. She immediately felt the loss of contact with him.

"Did you have anything else you wanted to say?" he asked.

"Don't stop!" was her response.

Their lips met again. Her tongue soon ran along his lower lip, begging entrance into his mouth. His lips parted, allowing her tongue entry. He ratcheted up the intensity next by moving his hand down her back and bringing it back up under the hem of her top, allowing it to roam over her back. It was her turn to make the next move. She started to unbutton his shirt...

*****END FLASHBACK*****

Yes, that's how it had begun. She'd make a move, and then he'd make one until he was on top of her, making love to her.

The only regret that she had was that it hadn't happened twenty-four hours sooner so that she could've slept in his arms instead of having to get up and attend a party.

She rolled over in her bed again, this time burying her face in her pillow. Why were the images still so clear and the feelings still so intense?

She may have had hope as she left his apartment that something might become of them after all, but at his party, he made no overture such as suggesting that they plan to see each other in a few months or that they talk via email about things that had kept them from moving their relationship forward in the past to see if there was possibly a future for them.

There were two things to be said in his defense, she thought. At his party, he hadn't shied away from her or left her sitting on the sidelines. He'd reach for her hand or slip an arm around her once in awhile as if to check that she was still at his side. The other thing that she could say was that he'd been the one to initiate email communication, though they hadn't exchanged many in the last three months, and in the emails that they had exchanged, not only did neither one of them suggest that they talk about having a relationship now, but neither of them mentioned what had happened that night.

Maybe it was her turn again, she thought before she reached for her bedside phone, not caring about what time it was in London.

This time, she knew what she wanted to say, well ask. She wanted to know if he was seeing someone, if she still mattered to him. She was dialing the first few numbers. She had the phone number memorized because this wasn't the first time in the past three months that she'd picked up the phone to call him.

This time, unlike the other times, it wasn't her thoughts of not being able to handle it if he didn't want her that stopped her. It was that voice that every woman has, but some don't listen to, but she was listening. Maybe she was listening because she couldn't drown it out. It was yelling at her.

'Don't do it! Don't go chasing after him! If he wants you, it's his turn to make the first move!'

She slammed the receiver back down on the cradle. "Yes, it's his turn," she said aloud into an empty bedroom.

TWO WEEKS LATER

SAN DIEGO

Harm studied the address on the tiny piece of paper that he'd scribbled it on at his office three days ago before slipping the scrap of paper back into his jacket pocket and stepping closer to the curb to get the attention of a cab driver.

It was thirty minutes later when the cab driver pulled onto her street. On the ride from the airport, Harm had wondered if Mac would want to see him, if she'd want to talk to him about a future together, given their current duty stations, but it wasn't until the cab driver pulled up in front of her building that it dawned on him that she might not be home, that she could be out on a date, or even worse, that she could have a man in her apartment, doing what he'd been dreaming about doing with her in great detail for the past three nights.

He had to shake that thought out of his head. Then he thought that he should have gone by his mother's first to drop of his bag. Mac might think that, after three months with only a few emails between them and certainly no mention of that night, showing up on her doorstep with an overnight bag was presumptuous. It wasn't true.

It wasn't that he didn't want to or wouldn't like to spend the night with her, but he wasn't assuming that she'd invite him. He just hadn't wanted to be delayed from seeing Mac for another moment, and if he went by his mother's, she'd delay him for more than a few minutes since he hadn't seen her in ... in a lot longer than he cared to remember at the moment. He had something more important to do first, something that, if it went the way he hoped, his mother would be thrilled that he'd skipped seeing her, at least seeing her first. He made a mental note to call his mother to see about having lunch with her before he left town.

Out on the curb with his overnight bag slung over one shoulder, he took in a deep breath and made his way to the entrance of her building. Then he made his way to her apartment door and stood there, wondering if he should knock.

He decided that he should call her. Her phone rang three times before a voice husky with sleep answered, "This is Colonel MacKenzie."

"Hey, Mac, I know it's late, but..." His voice trailed off. He was suddenly at a loss for words.

"Harm, what is it? What's happened?" She was fully awake now, waiting for the dreaded news that he must have to tell her if he was calling her this late.

"Nothing's happened, not recently anyway." He was trying to find a way to tell her that he was at her door and he needed to know if he knocked if some tanned surfer type was going to answer her door.

"Harm, if not recently, when did whatever it is happen?" She was still trying to figure out what was wrong. Why was he acting strangely?

"Three months ago..."

She knew instantly what he meant. "You want to talk about that now, at this hour, after so much time has past? Why?" She didn't mean to sound annoyed, but she was, and too tired to conceal it, apparently.

"Because I'm outside your front door, wondering if I made a big mistake by coming here."

"You're here...in San Diego?"

"Yes, I figured that it was my turn to show up at your door to talk."

She didn't say anything to his response, but he could hear heavy footsteps. Then, her front door flew open.

"Harm?" she asked as if she couldn't believe that he was there, not that he could blame her.

He flipped his phone closed. "I know I - " He started to say that he knew that he should've called to ask her if she was seeing anyone, if she wanted to see him before showing up at her doorstep, but he couldn't speak because she'd fused her lips to his.

One arm keeping his bag from hitting her, his free arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her to him, returning her kiss.

When their lips parted, she took his hand and pulled him into her apartment.

Once she'd closed the door behind him, she asked in a sultry and seductive voice, "How long do you have before you ship out, sailor?"

"I've got ninety-six hours of liberty. Subtracting travel time, I've got about seventy-two hours to be here with you," he replied with a smile.

"Then, we might actually get around to talking this time," she said before starting to work on unbuttoning his shirt. He dropped his bag on the floor and reached for her, pulling her close to him and claiming her mouth in a passionate kiss.

Finally forced apart out of the need for air, she pulled from his embrace, taking his hand and leading him in the direction of her bedroom. "Remember, it's my turn to be on top," she said breathlessly.

*****

He didn't know if it was the fact that the last time he'd been with a woman was three months ago or if it was the fact that she was just the one he was meant to be with, but their lovemaking was as good, if not better, as it had been three months ago.

Mac was lying across Harm, and they were basking in the afterglow of their union when Mac sat up with a start. First, she ran her hand over his chest and then she started to run her fingertips along his jaw line.

"What are you doing?" he asked, confused by her sudden behavior change.

She took a portion of his cheek between her thumb and forefinger in a gentle pinch. "Making sure it's you," she answered before letting go of his cheek. "I wanted to make sure that I wasn't dreaming."

"I think the proper protocol for making sure that you're not dreaming is to have someone pinch you, not pinching the person you might be imagining."

"Well, my way worked, too," she said with a mischievous smile.

"So, you've been dreaming about me, huh?" he said smugly before his tone and face took on a shy, more humble expression. "Then it's my turn to confess that I've been dreaming about you, too."

"Really?" She sounded surprised and happy to hear the news.

"That's why I came here. It was my turn to tell you that I love you. And I wanted to ask you if you want there to be an 'us', too, and before you ask me, I have no idea how we're going to manage it when we're stationed six thousand miles apart, but we can make it work if you want to be with me as much as I want to be with you."

She gave him a sexy smile. "If you don't know how much I want to be with you, then I did something wrong. So, I guess I'll have to do my turn over," she purred before her lips descended on his and soon they weren't talking any more, but they were communicating just fine.

*****

In the next seventy-two hours, they would talk, working out a plan to take turns traveling to see the other until Harm would be able to retire and join her in San Diego where they'd be married in a small ceremony on the beach.

THE END


End file.
